Dance With The Devil
by xBeyondInfinityx
Summary: She rude, annoying, arrogant, sarcastic, and impatient. But she's also mysterious, alluring, confident, protective and eager. She's beautiful, she's a wonder in all of this tragedy. And she's also going to be the death of me...–Haymitch Abernathy


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy or any of the other chatacers that are not of my creation that may appear in this story. Nor am I in anyway affilited with the series. All rights go to Suzanne Collins. **

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

I repeated to word over and over again in my head. This was all so stupid, so very stupid. If the stupid doctor had just given her the stupid medicine sooner, she would still be here! My mother would not be dead! This would not all seem so stupid!

My green eyes were staring the doctor down with such a force he dropped one of his many bottles on the floor and it shattered, spilling it's mushy contents everywhere. He bent down to clean it up, as did my older sister Rochella.

"Oh m-my, I'm so… so-sorry about that" The doctor stuttered. I hadn't even bothered to learn his name. The moment he walked through the door and looked at my mother, just from the look on his face when he saw her state I knew he wasn't going to try his best. To him she was already a goner. Yeah, well guess what? Now she's gone.

Forever!

There's no getting her back, there's no do overs. My mother, the only person who ever actually understood me is gone from this world. Leaving me with my father who practically hates me, my older sister who feels the same, and my little brothers who barley know me. I'm alone, even Rochella's cat hates me!

It won't be long before the pain of loneliness begins to eat away at me, and soon I'll be nothing more then a shell of my former self. And I'm sure that will be better for everyone. It's hard to imagine that things get better after this, I can already feel myself going numb. The feeling leaving me and the pain becoming to much to bare.

This must be heart break. I thought, that must be the pain inside my chest.

"Kiara!" Snapped my sister, "Say goodbye and thank you!" I looked at Rochella, my eyes brows knitted together in confusion. Was she really telling me to say goodbye and thank you to the man who just killed my mother? Did she not realize that her mother was dead?

I shook my head at my so called sister, stood up from my seat on our shabby couch and strode to the door. I purposely bumped into the doctor and glared at Rochella before I swept past her and out the door.

"Kiara! Get back here!" I heard Rochella shout from the door. I ignored her call and continued down the road.

It was cold, snowing in fact and I stupidly hadn't thought to grab my coat. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. Usually it was fair weather in district 12 around reaping day, but lately we've been getting strange weather. Yesterday it was hailing, hard.

Today a light layer of snow is falling to the ground. I heard the door of my house open and close again, I turned my head to see the nameless doctor rushing from the house and down the street. He stole a quick glance at me as he passed but he didn't meet my eyes. I guess I wouldn't either, I could almost feel the angry heat radiating off me. My eyes wore boring into his back with such anger I am sure he got goose bumps. I imagine it was hot enough to melt the snow if it could.

I have a horrible temper. And when I'm angry, I stay angry. I'm a grudge holder.

I shivered again as I walked down the cinder street, the snow was starting to fall heavier and my boots were leaving prints.

I suppose I should introduce myself, it would be the polite thing to do as Rochella would say.

My name is Kiara Hathaway and I'm seventeen years old. Home to me is District 12 in the country of Panem. I used to live with my mother, father, and three siblings. But as I'm sure you've gathered, my mother is dead. She was sick, very sick and apparently it was 'incurable'. I think that was a lie, but apparently I'm the only one. My father works in the mines, getting coal. That's what District 12 is known for. We live in the Seam, the poorer part of District 12. We're one of the few family's who can get by easily there, because my mother worked part time at the fresh food store helping out an old widowed friend of hers. My older sister Rochella, who is twenty one, works there to as does her fiancé, Ivan. Who is the woman's son. I also have two younger brothers, they're ten year old twins and their names are Conrad and Corey.

They barley know me, I haven't been… around… for most of their lives. I mean I was there, I just spent more time out of the house or not with them. I never got to know them.

Another shiver erupted through me and I hugged myself closer as I continued down the path towards town. My thoughts were racing, my mother was dead. Sure she's been sick for almost a year now, and she'd been un-wakeable for almost three days. But it still hurt to know that she was most definatly not coming back.

I should be crying, I should be home. I should be with my family. But I knew they didn't want me there, I needed to isolate myself from them. I wasn't sad, I was angry. I don't cry, I didn't when I found out she was sick and I'm not going to now that she's gone.

It was full on snowing now, I could feel it soaking through my thin sweater. I rubbed my arms and breathed out. Suddenly I felt something heavy and warm fall on my shoulders. I looked down to see a large brown leather jacket draped over my shoulder. The inside was lined with fur, that was the warmth. With out hesitation I wrapped it around me, drinking in it's warmth. Not letting a bit of it escape me.

"Thanks" I muttered to whom ever had given it to me.

"No problem, you looked cold" Said a deep and husky voice. I looked up to see who who the speaker was. I was met with eyes of the darkest gray I had ever seen, they were coal gray. Ashy and mysterious, almost black but not quite. Wavy brown hair fell delicately over a tanned forehead, well muscled arms were stuffed deep into their pants pockets, a long sleeved black t-shirt covered them. One that didn't look nearly warm enough.

Haymitch Abernathy. An eighteen year old boy who lived in the Seam, just like me. His father worked with my own, in the mines and he has two brothers one older, one younger. That's all I knew about him. He was a bit of a loner, like me, mysterious, quiet and a bit hostile. At least at school. I've only ever had the odd hello with him in the school hallway. Which leads me back to the jacket. What was he doing giving me his jacket?

I gave him a confused look "Why did you give me you jacket?" I asked, Haymitch rolled his dark eyes at me.

"Like I said, you looked cold" He stated simply, shrugging his shoulders. It seemed the cold was no bother to him, while I was still shivering slightly even beneath the warmth of his jacket.

"So you just go around giving your jacket to random people who look cold?" I questioned, my eyes narrowed. Haymitch stopped walking and looked at me, I stopped to.

"Do I look like a creep to you?" He asked, seemingly taking that offensively. I flitted my eyes up and down his body, for effect before I turned and continued walking "No" I said simply.

I heard Haymitch's heavy foot falls behind me and in a few seconds he was once again beside me.

"Then you have the answer to your question" He stated, shrugging. We walked in silence for a while, making our way into town. I didn't really know where I was heading I just wanted to go. Go and never come back.

But I couldn't. I had no where to run to, and no one to run with.

As Haymitch and I walked I felt our silence grow heavy and uncomfortable, and I racked my brain for something to say. I was coming up empty handed. The was nothing I could think of to say.

I turned my head to Haymitch, licking my dry lips. He was staring straight in front of him, hands in his pants pockets, shoulders slumped, mouth set in a hard line. It was hard to deny that he looked good. In fact he looked, strikingly handsome. It was almost distracting from everything, how handsome he looked in that cold and silent moment.

You know what scratch that, it _was _distracting. So distracting that I couldn't focus on my thoughts, and I couldn't control my words. So, naturally I blurted out the one thought I had been trying do desperately to keep inside.

"My mother's dead"


End file.
